


Expressive Fingers and Sunkissed Vampires

by AnArmAndALeg



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: (it's simon), AU, Brief Mention of Fiona Pitch, Deaf AU, M/M, SnowBaz, Which character? Find out now, baz has a hoh sister, if you look really hard you can see a brief cameo from penny, it's not canon but go with it, it's really short ngl, what-if fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 07:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15068432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnArmAndALeg/pseuds/AnArmAndALeg
Summary: The Chosen One, Hero of the World of Mages, makes an entrance. But something is wrong. Short AU where Simon is...





	Expressive Fingers and Sunkissed Vampires

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this in January, thanks to fanfiction being an accepted genre for my creative writing class final. I meant to post it a long time ago, but my depression hit hard and I ended up putting off a lot of things...
> 
> This fic is short but sweet. It's my first for the Carry On fandom, and I hope it's not my last. Constructive crit is always welcome, and I hope you enjoy!

**BAZ**

A week before Simon Snow arrived, the Mage announced to the World of Mages that the most powerful magician the world had ever known was coming. My aunt snorted when she heard the news, spread around from family to family, mage to mage. “He’s got that bat-shit look in his eyes again,” she told me, rolling her eyes. I didn’t know what she meant at the time, but I was still young enough to readily believe everything that she said. Besides, who was I to deny an extravagant feast on my very first day at Watford? So, I ended up putting the thought of a Chosen One out of my mind and didn’t think about it again until my first dinner at Watford, when the “Messiah” of the World of Mages made his appearance.

The doors slammed open. The dining hall went silent. And the Mage strode in with a young boy in tow.

The air in the dining room was so still that if you closed your eyes, you’d almost think the room was empty.

I’ll never get the image of the first time that I saw Snow out of my head. He looked young, probably my age, but he was shorter and thinner than anyone I’d ever met, my age or not. His cheekbones subtly jutted out of his face, and his eyes seemed slightly sunken in their sockets. He wasn’t a skeleton, but it wasn’t hard to imagine him being one.

_ He looks like death. _

There was an expression on the Mage’s face that I couldn’t place. He strode decisively to the front of the dining hall, the young boy running behind him at a fast trot to keep up. And there, in front of all assembled, he stopped and faced us. The expression I’d seen before was gone, replaced by a look of victory and what seemed like hope. He placed his hand on the shoulder of the young boy he had brought with him (who was looking out at the sea of faces with a confused and slightly panicked expression) and spoke, smiling slightly.

“I apologise for interrupting your feast, but I have an announcement. For many years, we have waited in anticipation for the day that the greatest wizard in the history of man would arrive!” A grimace crossed his face and disappeared, so fast that I almost thought that I’d imagined it. “Though he may not be trained, he has raw untapped power unlike no other. He shall study with the other first-years, as well as attend supplementary lessons with me. For now…” The Mage spread his arms out rather dramatically. “Let us feast and rest and prepare for the day that the Chosen One will save us all!” I watched as he subtly pushed the “Chosen One” towards the first-years’ table. The boy stumbled slightly and looked at the Mage with a confused look. One small look from the man sent him scurrying--nearly to the wrong table. Once he and the Mage were finally seated, the hall exploded into chatter; all about the bomb the Mage had just dropped.

“It’s just a hoax!” a fourth-year hissed to his friend. “There’s no bloody way!”

“Could the prophecy really be coming true?” a sixth-year wondered out loud.

“Ten quid says he’s stuck up,” a first-year whispered to her neighbour. “Look at him; he can’t even bothered to talk to anyone!”

“I’ll take you on that,” they replied. “I doubt anyone who looks that starved would be stuck up.”

I decided to not join in on all the talking and betting. Instead I kept my eyes on the boy for the rest of the feast, seeing if he’d respond to any of what was being said. I barely noticed when my food slowly became colder.

But he never even so much as reached for food. He stared into his lap, silent. It was almost as if he was negative space in a crowded room. 

Fascinating.

~~~

**SIMON**

It was hard to concentrate on anything. The hall was crowded with people, almost to a suffocating point. The man who had brought me here- I think he called himself the Mage? He was sitting at the large table at the front of the hall, where all the other adults sat.

“When you get in there,” He’d told me outside of the hall, “Don’t say a word. Do only what I tell you to do. I’ll explain later.”

So I sat at the table and didn’t say a word, though I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. I just kept my hands in my lap and my eyes on my hands and I

Didn’t

Say

A thing.

After all, I couldn’t risk saying something stupid and possibly losing my one chance to live in this world that I’d only been able to get a taste of.

~~~

**BAZ**

On everyone’s first day, first-years are paired up and given rooms to stay in for their time at Watford. This is always, always determined by the Crucible. Normally this wouldn’t be a big thing, but with the appearance of the Chosen One… 

Everyone was in anticipation as to who would be rooming with him, if anyone. There was always the chance that he’d be given his own room. It certainly wouldn’t be surprising if the Mage spoiled him that way.

Honestly, I wasn’t as enthralled as everyone else about who Sir Saviour was going to share a dorm with. For one, nobody even knew if he was really the saving grace of the magical world or if the Mage was bluffing. I for one wasn’t going to accept what he said as the truth. 

Despite all the hype, the rooming assignments went smoothly, almost to the point where it became tedious. Excitement changed to restlessness, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as some students who hadn’t yet been paired up shifted from foot to foot.

And so it went on.

And on, and on, and on.

One by one, pairs were formed: an Indian girl with ridiculous glasses and what looked to be a literal pixie (although it was more likely that she was only part-pixie, considering that full-blooded Fey hadn’t been seen, much less attended Watford in centuries); a messy-haired boy who glared at the person who he’d been paired with (who looked equally disgruntled); a mousey girl who, when paired with a girl who shot disinterested daggers at her, wilted on the spot…

The crowd slowly dwindled, until I was the only one left.

Which left two options.

  1. There was an odd number of students, which meant that I was getting a room all to myself.
  2. My roommate was none other than the Hero of Mages.



And that was just brilliant, wasn’t it?

~~~

**SIMON**

The Mage pulled me into his office to talk as soon as the feast was over.

My head was still spinning from everything. I felt lost, like I was being thrown about in a storm.

The Mage just sat in his chair and looked at me, brows furrowed.

Silent.

When he spoke, it was to tell me that I’m more important than I could ever know. That I was the one talked about in age-old prophecies destined to save the world. That he would explain later, but for now, I needed to sleep. That he would take me to my room. The entire time he talked, he avoided looking into my eyes.

It was a deluge of information and yet not enough information at the same time.

(I’d later learn that this was a characteristic of the Mage.)

He didn’t say a word after that, just led me down the winding halls down to my room. We stopped in front of a door, and he motioned to me to open it.

The room was nicer than any room I’d ever been in, or at least any room I’d stayed in. It had the basic things; beds, desks, a window, a door that probably led to a bathroom. Two beds were pushed up on opposite sides of the window. Gauzy curtains covered the window. It was spacious and just felt...comfortable. For the first time in a while, I felt at home.

Home.

The door to the bathroom opened, and a boy walked out.

~~~

**BAZ**

I walked out of the bathroom, drying my hair, and there he was. Curly bronze hair, blue eyes, looking like a deer caught in headlights and desperately looking at the steel grey sheets of his bed (which, in my opinion, worked quite nicely with the deep purple of the walls) as if they contained the secrets of the universe. The Chosen One.

Behind him, the Mage cleared his throat. “Tyrannus Pitch, correct?”

“Grimm-Pitch,” I corrected him, irritation shooting through me. Call it family bias, but for some reason his presence annoyed me. That, and his disgusting mustache.

“My bad. This is Simon Snow. The Crucible has placed you two together for living arrangements.” Obviously, the idea wasn’t appealing at all to him; a vague look of annoyance crossed his face for a moment. “I will return in the morning to pick him up. For now…” He patted the boy on the shoulder, catching his attention. It looked like he tried to give him a kindly look, but it seemed forced and frozen. Odd; if he was so valuable to the Mage, one would think that he’d make more of an effort. “Get some sleep. You...both...have a long day ahead of you.”

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him.

There was an awkward silence. The Chosen One shuffled a bit, clearly uncomfortable. It was soon evident that he wasn’t going to be the one to speak first, so I sighed and opened my mouth. “Let’s just establish a few things, okay? First off, until you prove that you’re actually the fabled hero the Mage claims you are-”

And the boy raised his hands.

~~~

**SIMON**

I raised my hands.

And I spoke.

~~~

_ Do you know BSL? _

_ (Do you know British Sign Language?) _

_ (Please say yes, please, please- ) _

**_…_ **

**_Yes. I do._ **

~~~

**SIMON**

I grinned in disbelief. This was...amazing! Finally, someone who I could talk to without pulling out a notebook! For the first time since the Mage had arrived at the orphanage, looking for me, I felt a bit less like I was completely lost.

~~~

**BAZ**

I stared in disbelief. This was...disastrous. If he really was the Chosen One...there was no way this would end well. Magic is all about the spoken word, phrases that are given power through repetition and meaning. Unless he was going to carry a notebook on him at all times and furiously scribble in it during battles…

**_Are you mute or deaf?_ **

_ Deaf. I can speak, but not well. _

Better than nothing. Still not ideal. At least he could talk, though if he couldn’t hear what he was saying it’d be a lot harder for him.

_ How do you know BSL? _

**_Family._ ** I didn’t elaborate further. I didn’t exactly want explain how my younger sister was hard of hearing. It was a secret my family didn’t exactly broadcast.  **_Why does the Mage think you’re so important?_ **

He flushed.  _ I slightly… _ A bit of fidgeting as he tried to find the right word.  _ ‘Exploded’. He says everyone felt it. _

Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.  **_When?_ **

_ A week or so ago. _

The energy wave. My father’s face, drained of blood. My aunt, cursing in disbelief.

Unless he was lying, there was no way around it. This boy, skeleton-thin and my age, was the Chosen One. Nobody else had that much raw power.

_ So your name is Tyran- _

I cut him off before he spelled out my entire name.  **_Baz. Call me Baz._ **

He paused.  _ Baz. I’m Simon. _

**_I know._ **

It was...familiar. Maybe a bit too familiar. But it would feel rude to call him Snow now.

**_Nice to meet you...Simon._ **

~~~

**SIMON**

I smiled tentatively at Baz. I wasn’t one for desperately trying to make friends; usually I felt comfortable being alone. Years of moving from orphanage to orphanage did that to a person. But here...at the very least, he was someone who I could talk to without worrying about having to hide the fact that I was completely deaf. 

I’d hid it well, for the most part, since people generally didn’t take the truth with much grace. I couldn’t hear myself, but I’d learned how to sound natural enough that any mistakes I made were dismissed as a speech impediment. One of the orphanages had forced me to use only BSL, though. So that I wouldn’t “trick families into adopting a disabled child”.

I moved soon after, but the BSL had proven to be useful. 

_ It’s nice to meet you, too. _

I suspected that if things had been different, we wouldn’t have been friends. He seemed cold, refined, rich. Everything that I never was or could be. I’d think he was arrogant, entitled, a prat. I’d hate him, try to avoid him. We’d probably end up enemies, constantly at each other’s throats.

I held out a hand for him to shake.

~~~

**BAZ**

Somewhere else, in some other time, I wouldn’t have taken it. I would have seen him as a stupid little pawn of the Mage. I would have thought that he might get a big ego and regarded him with disdain. I would have vowed to be his archenemy, the person to balance him out. And, without me knowing, I would have fallen in love with him by fifth year. I would have ended up in eighth year kissing him (or rather, being kissed) in the middle of a burning forest whose fire I started myself. Kissing the sun itself, and not burning up.

Here and now, I took his hand and shook it.


End file.
